


This is where I want to be

by elliceluella



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Happily Ever After, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Picnics, Romance, just a general sense of soft romance and schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-14 00:10:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20591414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliceluella/pseuds/elliceluella
Summary: He’d be happy like this for infinite eternities, cocooned in a bubble of their own and isolated from the rest of the world. One flick of his wrist later and the moon appears much larger, barely shrouded in gossamer wisps of cloud. They’re both bathing in silver moonlight.Another flick and the sky grows just a little darker, enough that the twinkle of stars shine through until they’re lying underneath a canopy of sparkling jewels. Aziraphale indulges him this time, smiling for the camera and throwing in a little wave.





	This is where I want to be

**Author's Note:**

> It's almost the 11th so I'm celebrating yet another year of writing, starring the ineffable husbands this time (while my other WIPs and OTPs simmer away)
> 
> Title is from Cigarettes After Sex's "Heavenly", because it felt like serendipity and also all their songs feel conducive for writing mushy romantic things.

The one upside of knowing— and loving— someone for six thousand years is how you can get treated to something akin to a front row seat in intimate understanding— barely anything remains hidden, temperaments and temptations an art long mastered.

So Crowley holds nothing back. He lays out a grand spread of every kind of edible decadence that’s ever made Aziraphale sigh and declare ‘absolutely heavenly’ atop a tartan picnic mat. Things he could procure, he did, and those he couldn’t, he miracled. The Bentley’s nearby, behaving itself this time and quietly purring in the background. Crowley thinks he’s maybe detected a thread of cheeky amusement, something of the “can’t believe it took you so long to do this” variety in its tone, but he doesn’t have it in him to shoot his car a glare. Not now, when he’s got an armful of warm, curious angel.

“Crowley, dear, can I take it off now?”

It’s a most ridiculous exercise in futility, but Aziraphale, a principality who didn’t necessarily need to rely on human sight, happily agreed to be blindfolded for the entire thing, right from the moment he got into the car because a ‘very human experience of being romanced and surprised’ sounded absolutely splendid.

He’d taken a deep breath and exhaled with a smile when Crowley led him out, midnight breeze blowing sweet scents from the meadow below up to the gently sloped hilltop where they were.

It was the kind of smile that made his lips curve just so, the kind that made Crowley want nothing more than to rest for an eternity in them, nestled safe and snug. The kind that made him yearn so hard he hurt. 

He settles for whipping his phone out and snapping a quick photo instead. 

“Alright, Angel,” Crowley says after he helps Aziraphale get seated on the mat. “Now.”

Moving fast has always been something to be slightly proud of. It meant he was flashy and flexible enough to keep up with humanity and, in a baser, more animalistic sense, the ability to strike fast and sink fangs into targets and goals, until six little words uttered in the Bentley made him rethink everything. 

It’s taken practice, and time, but he’s glad he learned to slow down, and that Aziraphale changed gears, enough that they’re both moving in tandem now. 

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale exclaims softly, eyes bright and tender as he looks at the spread before him and then back at Crowley. “Thank you.”

Crowley takes it all in, lets the moment sear itself into his memory until it burns as bright as the other memory he’s always despised, hated until everything turned to rot, glad that it finally has a fitting rival, a balm of a buffer against all that bitterness and anger.

“Anything for you, Angel.”

*

They rest underneath stars he helped create, Aziraphale remarking on their beauty and squeezing Crowley’s hand once he spots the pained smile. 

He’d be happy like this for infinite eternities, cocooned in a bubble of their own and isolated from the rest of the world. One flick of his wrist later and the moon appears much larger, barely shrouded in gossamer wisps of cloud. They’re both bathing in silver moonlight. 

Another flick and the sky grows just a little darker, enough that the twinkle of stars shine through until they’re lying underneath a canopy of sparkling jewels. Aziraphale indulges him this time, smiling for the camera and throwing in a little wave.

“Exactly how many photos are you taking?” Aziraphale asks when Crowley doesn’t put the phone down.

“...you are taking a photo, right?” he asks when Crowley doesn’t answer.

“Boomerang,” Crowley finally answers with a grin. “And then a video. Just to be a little shit.”

“Ah yes, that’s my darling.” Aziraphale huffs and rolls his eyes.

Crickets chirp in the distance, a simple but beautiful accompaniment to the symphony that is Aziraphale beaming and enjoying himself and making pleased little noises. 

Eventually Crowley gives in and feeds Aziraphale, biting down hard on his own lips at the way the cake in his hand disappears into Aziraphale’s mouth, the way Aziraphale licks his fingers and tries to keep them in his mouth as long as possible. The moans that follow every subsequent bite are enough to make Crowley squirm. (Anyone, Crowley firmly believes, regardless of their ability to turn into a snake, would’ve possessed equal predisposition to squirm. It was just that kind of a moan.)

“You don’t have to keep doing _ that _ to show your appreciation,” Crowley says, and tugs at his collar. It’s beginning to get a little hot underneath. “I know you’re appreciative enough,” 

“Yes,” Aziraphale replies, perfectly serene. “But it’s only right that I show my thanks as a polite gift recipient. You know, manners maketh m- well, us.”

Damn it, Crowley thinks, and wonders just how much of Aziraphale thinking merciless teasing counted as good manners was his fault, and if this was going to blow up in his face just like the M25.

“Besides,” the bastard continues, “I thought you’d like to hear _exactly _how appreciative I am.”

Any and all words at the tip of his tongue wither immediately so he does the only thing he can in that moment. He leans in and presses his lips against Aziraphale, a biting, nipping retort that goes on for quite awhile.

Aziraphale retaliates and plays dirty, moaning even louder. 

_Yeah, that’s my angel, right there_. Crowley smiles into the kiss, pride surging and toes tingling. 

*

Crowley doesn’t tear his gaze away from the sky, and the arm that isn’t pillowed under his head reaches out for Aziraphale’s hand. “I love you,” he says, simply and happily. 

Crowley’s said it a million times and Aziraphale’s heard almost every single one, it’s just... taken Crowley several thousand years to say it out loud. 

Aziraphale’s hand spasms in his. 

But Crowley isn’t afraid, not this time, not anymore. He smiles and turns to look at Aziraphale.

It takes a good few seconds for the shock on Aziraphale’s face to soften, but then it splits into something beatific. “Sweetheart,” Aziraphale says, grabbing Crowley and tugging until he rolls on top of him. Aziraphale pulls him in for a kiss. When they break apart, foreheads still touching, Aziraphale says, breathless, “_I fucking love you_.”

Crowley feels those words against his lips and just about a million other feelings, all of them good and special.

He throws his head back and laughs.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi [on tumblr!](https://ellicelluella.tumblr.com/)


End file.
